And Then There Were None
by Ghoul1987
Summary: This isn't your average Corpse Party: POV of Satoshi Moshida. Remake of the video game and anime Corpse Party Tortured Souls. WWSD: What would Satoshi do?
1. Chapter 1

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="87186544cf30e4965f47827f8e8f8ac4"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Black. The darkness consumes me as I stare blankly back into nothingness. My sense of time, sense of touch, and sense of feeling all escape me. My lips are motionless while I remain in a paralyzed state. I reach out for any hope of help, but I receive none. Life itself does not exist. Do I even exist? All the classes I took over the breaks or in my free time I took to studying and expanding my knowledge on the human existence and easier ways to make it through the world which did exist. Now everything I've learned, everything I had, is gone. Nothing matters anymore but the present. Nothing matters but this moment in human species is but an ant in a world of behemoths. I swim through a sea of black trying to search for the light when I suddenly discover something else. Pain. Excruciating pain throughout my body yanks me out of the stillness. It happens quickly, but enough to make me screech./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="438e3d66821edb8651444f123da2eb26"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"As my mind grips conscientiousness, I realize a blindfold is obscuring my vision, and a rope binds my hands together so tightly, my wrists start to bleed from the friction. I feel blood seep out of my body as it drip down my wrists and out of my stomach./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="15dcb7ced122f8226b53a9014eaa2c7b"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Someone must've stabbed me a lot, but not too much as to make me die from blood loss. The kidnapper seems like a sadist to sit there and listen as my screams fill the room, echoing the sounds of displeasure and emphasizing the fact of how slowly my life is being whisked away from me, like a daisy that is one day lively and blooming, yet the next stepped on and squashed. Dead. My feet are tied together, but with this sort of imprisonment, I already know I have no chance of escaping. The one thing that strikes me at an odd is how easily my lips move about. My mouth should be duct taped, or better yet, gagged so that no one can hear my measly cries of SOS. But it's not./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="37b07df58211d5e3866151a2c85fdf95"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"How did I get here in the first place? Let's work backwards from the start...My name is Satoshi Mochida. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm a male student from Kisaragi Academy Senior High. One of my best friends, Ayumi Shinozaki, was graduating from Kisaragi and going to attend college, so we had a little party inside the school. We spent time in an empty classroom telling ghost stories and eating snacks, but we didn't want that to be the end of our memories and journey together./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="978a97cfb04406fbe2dd2d0868c85275"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Sure, we could always call or visit each other from time to time, but we all would soon go our separate ways. To be with each other always, we performed the Sachiko Ever After ritual, which granted us a charm that would guarantee the fact that we would stay friends for all of eternity. We ripped the paper doll together, each one of us getting granted a piece. Then we recited the words, each of us nine times, "Good Luck, Shinozaki!", to wish her good luck on her trip to college. The only warning we were told before the ritual is if any of us counted one less or one more phrase then the original instruction required us to, something terrible would happen to all of us./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f00cf32ee9c4d395cf87c03fb1a365de"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Soon after, we were told to keep the ripped piece somewhere we know it will be safe like somewhere close to us, such as a wallet or pocket. But before we even got the chance to place it, the floor below us caved in and we crashed through a roof of another building like flimsy cards falling into a the hand of an entirely different game. This game requires us students to go insane before we win, die before we win, kill others to live, or live long enough to watch the ones we've loved and spent our most cherished memories with die in front of us. The ghost story we read was about a teacher who lost her footing on the stairs of a school by the name of "Heavenly Host Elementary" and tragically died. The principal treated the school as if it was his own child, but the misfortune continued. On a certain day after the incident, it was decided that the school would be closed down. The principal's heart broke down so much, that on the closing day of the school, he climbed up to the school's rooftop and committed suicide./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4562b3b24e90c8013c7fc25a777c1dbf"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"As I'm reflecting on the past memories and trying to conceal the obvious pain of the wound I'm handling, the blindfold gets yanked off my face. My eyes dilate as they adjust to the change in atmosphere. I find that I'm laying on the floor like a desperate fish out of water, squinting so that I can find the person who would do this to me. To us. To everyone who ended up here. The room stinks of urine and guts while I discover that the room is painted a warm maroon color, unlike the atmosphere. Finally looking fear in the eye, I decide to lift my gaze up to the person who is standing right above me. I feel vulnerable being tied up like this and having to look up at assailant./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="51b0c70c256248e2fd285fccb4d2cc03"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"My eyes should be deceiving me because I make out a little girl in a tattered red dress, her hair scraggly and tangled, bangs that cover her face, and black eyes wide and bloodshot. I almost reach out and ask her if she's alright, but a grin generates across her mouth as wide as watermelon slice, spreading from cheek to cheek. My eyes drift downward as I see a pair of well used, rusty scissors in her right hand. I turn my head away from her so quickly that my head jerks to the side, allowing the side effects of whiplash to take place. Soon, my neck begins to throb./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6bcbefe7f8fad7296069fffdfbaf6c63"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Fear begins to grow inside of me like mushrooms that sprout from the depths of my conscientiousness. The fungus slowly sprouts and multiplies inside of me until my whole being is consumed in terror. "Life is a distraction," I whisper to myself, trying to take comfort in knowing that these might be my last moments. "Death is only the wait of another one..." Coming to the conclusion that I'm already dead as it is, I take a long look around this place; my death will take place here. I couldn't have picked a more worse area. My eyes catch something strange in the back of the room. As I take a harder glance, I find it is a man...He appears to be around the age of fifty, yet is in a tight ball rocking back and forth, shaking uncontrollably; trembling with fear and...crying? How is he alive still? And why is he crying? He should be her accomplice, right? As I take one final look around the room to unearth the answers to my questions, I locate the cause of the tears./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b55136d7773ddab9559f3d8d698ccb83"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Blood. Blood everywhere. Stained on the walls and on the floor is this red liquid. It's so prominent that you would think the whole room is made out of it. But that's not what alarms me. On the floor placed neatly on a mat, just like I am, are children who seem to be in elementary school, all dead and all executed in a different way./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f7e78d76fd7dbc2d712a87e9edbbb74e"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The first child is stabbed in the stomach, almost as if his whole stomach is gone entirely. Guts spill out from all sides of him, organs so distinct, I can name which ones are the small intestine, large intestine, and kidney; obviously died from blood loss./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e44a397b15065a7d2e08449fc09555b3"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The second victim I see nothing wrong with at first, until I move my eyes upward to see the mouth that is gaping wide open. Blood also spills over out of her, but instead it's inside the mouth. I see a detached tongue nearby. I soon realize they cut her tongue out of her mouth with the scissors, then died of choking to death on her own blood./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a9430fe24b8620aaab0b1a078d19072e"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The third victim is probably the worst. I lift my head up and puke over to the side after seeing the gruesome sight. The student's body is in perfect shape, but I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl because the whole top half of the kid's head is taken off, from the jaw up, with a blunt weapon; I'm assuming they used the scissors, just like they did with the other students. The bottom half of the student's teeth remain in its skull while pieces of brains escape, along with enormous amounts of blood./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d2faa1070ee5c9b025c168918b027225"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I begin to wonder where the missing half of its head went, when I discover that I thought too quickly. Sitting off to the side is the other half of the child's skull and brains. The student is a girl with beautiful brown hair with flower daisy clips to her bangs out of her face. Her eyes are upturned with prominent red veins popping out, displaying the permanent look of horror and pain on her face./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="53e6b9f296830716e6ea34f767d13043"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"After seeing all the students, something strikes me as an odd. They're all blindfolded, but I'm not. Also, none of these students was anyone who was with me when we fell through the roof. In fact, they're all from elementary school. So why am I with juniors? Did we all end up some place different? And why hasn't she killed me yet? Turning to look upwards at her, my mouth starts to form words and I dare ask her a question. "What are you doing?" I hesitantly state, trying to stay calm so that I don't freak out. "Why am I-," before I even get the chance to listen to her answers, she thrusts the scissors into my eye. I screech in agony as she jerks the scissors around, ecstatically moving them around to get more screams out of me. My right eye goes blind and plunges back into the darkness of where I once came. As the scissors get plunged into my head over and over again, all the memories of the people this girl has killed flood into my brain and answers that I've been searching for have been found./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0e83224c512a2f452c2de08d833e6166"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"This girl's name is Sachiko Shinozaki. Her mother was the teacher who taught in Heavenly Host Elementary whose death was purposely caused by the principal. Shinozaki was the one who knew the truth about her mother's death, but she didn't get the chance to tell anyone because the principal killed her before she even got the chance. The principal was afraid that the student's bodies of which he killed would remind him of the pain and suffering he caused them and couldn't afford for them to give out his secret, so to fix this problem, he cut the tongues out of their mouths to prevent them from speaking, and placed the ones he "cared" about in a satchel, and the others in a large bucket. But even so, the children of whom he killed whispered sweet tidings to him every day and night about his deeds. He couldn't handle the voices, so he closed down the school, which was like his child to him, and committed suicide because that school was the only form of happiness he had./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2e7949a92e2c40f6c70ce1fb18c31210"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The four children who have been killed beside me, including Sachiko, who is the leader of them all, have been murdering other children ever since in Heavenly Host trying to get their tongues back. They have also been trying to find the truth about their murderer, and Sachiko has been trying to make others find the truth about the principal, who is their murderer, but their unresting spirits demand for an answer and kill instead of finding the truth./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="68a0b4f7f6a520335fac9c7495b591a0"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The children themselves don't wish to kill, but the demons inside of them come out to play because it's hell on Earth and they can't escape it until their spirits are put to rest. Now every time someone performs the Sachiko Ever After ritual, they will be trapped here because all across the globe, the Sachiko Ever After charm is written incorrectly. They will die, kill someone, live long enough to see their beloved die, or drive to insanity before they escape, or if they ever escape. I now realize that I am in Heavenly Host Elementary, which was built under Kisaragi Academy, and I have to find my way out./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7a4742d75306ef99dcf1e91175e76a0d"I awake from my nightmare and find that I am alone. Wait, no I'm not. My sister Yuka snuggles up beside my arm, keeping me warm like a robin does for their eggs, which in this case, the roles should be flipped around, considering she's four years my junior. I love Yuka so much. She's the best thing I've ever had in this world. I don't want to wake her up, considering how tightly she's sleeping./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c7abfa1a39d1904011e5330faece4080""Yuka," I state warmly to her, as to allow her to wake up in a good mood. "Time to wake up."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="dd68e573cc30345d844e5e19fcecfd40"She slowly opens her rich, brown eyes and rubs them a little to make things clearer for her. She snaps back to reality as she takes a nervous look around the unfamiliar atmosphere./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="34eefa9228f133861d37e7f8a9e73935""Onii-chan*," she cries out. "Where are we, Onii-chan? I gotta go pee." As I take a look at our surroundings, I notice the dark, wood, plank walls and matching planked floor. All I need to know for now is that we need to find the others and find a way out of here, which I assume is unlikely, considering I can't even break open a window with full force, or even with the helpful assistance of a chair. I know exactly where we are, but I dare tell her the truth./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ed9c86e0a25916c101f82016c328548b"If I know where we are and how to escape, then we need to do it quickly before anyone gets hurt. After we have put all the spirits to rest, we can re-perform the Sachiko ritual, with our own paper doll charms and get out of here. The only problem here is that I lost mine on the crash down. I won't be able to escape here alive, I'll only be able to help the others leave. I just hope Yuka manages life without me okay./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="db5f7602a795e51effb331b862b85751""I know where we are," I calmly state, helping her relax a little, knowing her older brother has got it all under control. I have to tell her the truth at one time or another. I can't just keep this secret away from her. I love her too much to do that./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;""We are in Heavenly Host Academy."/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"-/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7b2f44ff9babc5994cf40fba9ef7c6f5" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7b2f44ff9babc5994cf40fba9ef7c6f5"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"*/spanOnii-chan: Japanese honorific for older brother/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f3dd2ea413abc335fea36d04f59996a7" /p 


	2. Chapter 2

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="87186544cf30e4965f47827f8e8f8ac4"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Black. The darkness consumes me as I stare blankly back into nothingness. My sense of time, sense of touch, and sense of feeling all escape me. My lips are motionless while I remain in a paralyzed state. I reach out for any hope of help, but I receive none. Life itself does not exist. Do I even exist? All the classes I took over the breaks or in my free time I took to studying and expanding my knowledge on the human existence and easier ways to make it through the world which did exist. Now everything I've learned, everything I had, is gone. Nothing matters anymore but the present. Nothing matters but this moment in human species is but an ant in a world of behemoths. I swim through a sea of black trying to search for the light when I suddenly discover something else. Pain. Excruciating pain throughout my body yanks me out of the stillness. It happens quickly, but enough to make me screech./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="438e3d66821edb8651444f123da2eb26"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"As my mind grips conscientiousness, I realize a blindfold is obscuring my vision, and a rope binds my hands together so tightly, my wrists start to bleed from the friction. I feel blood seep out of my body as it drip down my wrists and out of my stomach./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="15dcb7ced122f8226b53a9014eaa2c7b"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Someone must've stabbed me a lot, but not too much as to make me die from blood loss. The kidnapper seems like a sadist to sit there and listen as my screams fill the room, echoing the sounds of displeasure and emphasizing the fact of how slowly my life is being whisked away from me, like a daisy that is one day lively and blooming, yet the next stepped on and squashed. Dead. My feet are tied together, but with this sort of imprisonment, I already know I have no chance of escaping. The one thing that strikes me at an odd is how easily my lips move about. My mouth should be duct taped, or better yet, gagged so that no one can hear my measly cries of SOS. But it's not./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="37b07df58211d5e3866151a2c85fdf95"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"How did I get here in the first place? Let's work backwards from the start...My name is Satoshi Mochida. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm a male student from Kisaragi Academy Senior High. One of my best friends, Ayumi Shinozaki, was graduating from Kisaragi and going to attend college, so we had a little party inside the school. We spent time in an empty classroom telling ghost stories and eating snacks, but we didn't want that to be the end of our memories and journey together./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="978a97cfb04406fbe2dd2d0868c85275"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Sure, we could always call or visit each other from time to time, but we all would soon go our separate ways. To be with each other always, we performed the Sachiko Ever After ritual, which granted us a charm that would guarantee the fact that we would stay friends for all of eternity. We ripped the paper doll together, each one of us getting granted a piece. Then we recited the words, each of us nine times, "Good Luck, Shinozaki!", to wish her good luck on her trip to college. The only warning we were told before the ritual is if any of us counted one less or one more phrase then the original instruction required us to, something terrible would happen to all of us./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f00cf32ee9c4d395cf87c03fb1a365de"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Soon after, we were told to keep the ripped piece somewhere we know it will be safe like somewhere close to us, such as a wallet or pocket. But before we even got the chance to place it, the floor below us caved in and we crashed through a roof of another building like flimsy cards falling into a the hand of an entirely different game. This game requires us students to go insane before we win, die before we win, kill others to live, or live long enough to watch the ones we've loved and spent our most cherished memories with die in front of us. The ghost story we read was about a teacher who lost her footing on the stairs of a school by the name of "Heavenly Host Elementary" and tragically died. The principal treated the school as if it was his own child, but the misfortune continued. On a certain day after the incident, it was decided that the school would be closed down. The principal's heart broke down so much, that on the closing day of the school, he climbed up to the school's rooftop and committed suicide./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4562b3b24e90c8013c7fc25a777c1dbf"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"As I'm reflecting on the past memories and trying to conceal the obvious pain of the wound I'm handling, the blindfold gets yanked off my face. My eyes dilate as they adjust to the change in atmosphere. I find that I'm laying on the floor like a desperate fish out of water, squinting so that I can find the person who would do this to me. To us. To everyone who ended up here. The room stinks of urine and guts while I discover that the room is painted a warm maroon color, unlike the atmosphere. Finally looking fear in the eye, I decide to lift my gaze up to the person who is standing right above me. I feel vulnerable being tied up like this and having to look up at assailant./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="51b0c70c256248e2fd285fccb4d2cc03"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"My eyes should be deceiving me because I make out a little girl in a tattered red dress, her hair scraggly and tangled, bangs that cover her face, and black eyes wide and bloodshot. I almost reach out and ask her if she's alright, but a grin generates across her mouth as wide as watermelon slice, spreading from cheek to cheek. My eyes drift downward as I see a pair of well used, rusty scissors in her right hand. I turn my head away from her so quickly that my head jerks to the side, allowing the side effects of whiplash to take place. Soon, my neck begins to throb./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="6bcbefe7f8fad7296069fffdfbaf6c63"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Fear begins to grow inside of me like mushrooms that sprout from the depths of my conscientiousness. The fungus slowly sprouts and multiplies inside of me until my whole being is consumed in terror. "Life is a distraction," I whisper to myself, trying to take comfort in knowing that these might be my last moments. "Death is only the wait of another one..." Coming to the conclusion that I'm already dead as it is, I take a long look around this place; my death will take place here. I couldn't have picked a more worse area. My eyes catch something strange in the back of the room. As I take a harder glance, I find it is a man...He appears to be around the age of fifty, yet is in a tight ball rocking back and forth, shaking uncontrollably; trembling with fear and...crying? How is he alive still? And why is he crying? He should be her accomplice, right? As I take one final look around the room to unearth the answers to my questions, I locate the cause of the tears./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="b55136d7773ddab9559f3d8d698ccb83"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Blood. Blood everywhere. Stained on the walls and on the floor is this red liquid. It's so prominent that you would think the whole room is made out of it. But that's not what alarms me. On the floor placed neatly on a mat, just like I am, are children who seem to be in elementary school, all dead and all executed in a different way./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f7e78d76fd7dbc2d712a87e9edbbb74e"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The first child is stabbed in the stomach, almost as if his whole stomach is gone entirely. Guts spill out from all sides of him, organs so distinct, I can name which ones are the small intestine, large intestine, and kidney; obviously died from blood loss./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="e44a397b15065a7d2e08449fc09555b3"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The second victim I see nothing wrong with at first, until I move my eyes upward to see the mouth that is gaping wide open. Blood also spills over out of her, but instead it's inside the mouth. I see a detached tongue nearby. I soon realize they cut her tongue out of her mouth with the scissors, then died of choking to death on her own blood./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a9430fe24b8620aaab0b1a078d19072e"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The third victim is probably the worst. I lift my head up and puke over to the side after seeing the gruesome sight. The student's body is in perfect shape, but I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl because the whole top half of the kid's head is taken off, from the jaw up, with a blunt weapon; I'm assuming they used the scissors, just like they did with the other students. The bottom half of the student's teeth remain in its skull while pieces of brains escape, along with enormous amounts of blood./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d2faa1070ee5c9b025c168918b027225"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"I begin to wonder where the missing half of its head went, when I discover that I thought too quickly. Sitting off to the side is the other half of the child's skull and brains. The student is a girl with beautiful brown hair with flower daisy clips to her bangs out of her face. Her eyes are upturned with prominent red veins popping out, displaying the permanent look of horror and pain on her face./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="53e6b9f296830716e6ea34f767d13043"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"After seeing all the students, something strikes me as an odd. They're all blindfolded, but I'm not. Also, none of these students was anyone who was with me when we fell through the roof. In fact, they're all from elementary school. So why am I with juniors? Did we all end up some place different? And why hasn't she killed me yet? Turning to look upwards at her, my mouth starts to form words and I dare ask her a question. "What are you doing?" I hesitantly state, trying to stay calm so that I don't freak out. "Why am I-," before I even get the chance to listen to her answers, she thrusts the scissors into my eye. I screech in agony as she jerks the scissors around, ecstatically moving them around to get more screams out of me. My right eye goes blind and plunges back into the darkness of where I once came. As the scissors get plunged into my head over and over again, all the memories of the people this girl has killed flood into my brain and answers that I've been searching for have been found./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="0e83224c512a2f452c2de08d833e6166"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"This girl's name is Sachiko Shinozaki. Her mother was the teacher who taught in Heavenly Host Elementary whose death was purposely caused by the principal. Shinozaki was the one who knew the truth about her mother's death, but she didn't get the chance to tell anyone because the principal killed her before she even got the chance. The principal was afraid that the student's bodies of which he killed would remind him of the pain and suffering he caused them and couldn't afford for them to give out his secret, so to fix this problem, he cut the tongues out of their mouths to prevent them from speaking, and placed the ones he "cared" about in a satchel, and the others in a large bucket. But even so, the children of whom he killed whispered sweet tidings to him every day and night about his deeds. He couldn't handle the voices, so he closed down the school, which was like his child to him, and committed suicide because that school was the only form of happiness he had./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="2e7949a92e2c40f6c70ce1fb18c31210"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The four children who have been killed beside me, including Sachiko, who is the leader of them all, have been murdering other children ever since in Heavenly Host trying to get their tongues back. They have also been trying to find the truth about their murderer, and Sachiko has been trying to make others find the truth about the principal, who is their murderer, but their unresting spirits demand for an answer and kill instead of finding the truth./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="68a0b4f7f6a520335fac9c7495b591a0"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"The children themselves don't wish to kill, but the demons inside of them come out to play because it's hell on Earth and they can't escape it until their spirits are put to rest. Now every time someone performs the Sachiko Ever After ritual, they will be trapped here because all across the globe, the Sachiko Ever After charm is written incorrectly. They will die, kill someone, live long enough to see their beloved die, or drive to insanity before they escape, or if they ever escape. I now realize that I am in Heavenly Host Elementary, which was built under Kisaragi Academy, and I have to find my way out./em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7a4742d75306ef99dcf1e91175e76a0d"I awake from my nightmare and find that I am alone. Wait, no I'm not. My sister Yuka snuggles up beside my arm, keeping me warm like a robin does for their eggs, which in this case, the roles should be flipped around, considering she's four years my junior. I love Yuka so much. She's the best thing I've ever had in this world. I don't want to wake her up, considering how tightly she's sleeping./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="c7abfa1a39d1904011e5330faece4080""Yuka," I state warmly to her, as to allow her to wake up in a good mood. "Time to wake up."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="dd68e573cc30345d844e5e19fcecfd40"She slowly opens her rich, brown eyes and rubs them a little to make things clearer for her. She snaps back to reality as she takes a nervous look around the unfamiliar atmosphere./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="34eefa9228f133861d37e7f8a9e73935""Onii-chan*," she cries out. "Where are we, Onii-chan? I gotta go pee." As I take a look at our surroundings, I notice the dark, wood, plank walls and matching planked floor. All I need to know for now is that we need to find the others and find a way out of here, which I assume is unlikely, considering I can't even break open a window with full force, or even with the helpful assistance of a chair. I know exactly where we are, but I dare tell her the truth./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ed9c86e0a25916c101f82016c328548b"If I know where we are and how to escape, then we need to do it quickly before anyone gets hurt. After we have put all the spirits to rest, we can re-perform the Sachiko ritual, with our own paper doll charms and get out of here. The only problem here is that I lost mine on the crash down. I won't be able to escape here alive, I'll only be able to help the others leave. I just hope Yuka manages life without me okay./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="db5f7602a795e51effb331b862b85751""I know where we are," I calmly state, helping her relax a little, knowing her older brother has got it all under control. I have to tell her the truth at one time or another. I can't just keep this secret away from her. I love her too much to do that./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;""We are in Heavenly Host Academy."/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="8c159615d3c7cfe1d3de1e9e0e688f54"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"-/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7b2f44ff9babc5994cf40fba9ef7c6f5" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="7b2f44ff9babc5994cf40fba9ef7c6f5"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"*/spanOnii-chan: Japanese honorific for older brother/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="f3dd2ea413abc335fea36d04f59996a7" /p 


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